


Dark Embrace

by raisedbymoogles



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst, M/M, Zombie, body control, mutual noncon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:37:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedbymoogles/pseuds/raisedbymoogles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The climactic fight in 'Dark Awakening' goes... a little wrong. Written for the Rodimus Prime Party on tf_g1_season3 on LJ.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Embrace

He hated this. No, that wasn't quite right - he couldn't hate the scarred, broken hands clutching his chest and hip from behind, the harsh rasp of vent-expelled air against his plating, the low, familiar voice shuddering in his audial. He could never hate Optimus Prime, no matter what he did.

He hated himself for liking it. He hated his own spark for thrilling in his chest every time Optimus's hips spasmed against his aft. He hated that this would be the only time his elder Prime would ever do this.

Optimus sobbed with the effort of resistance, thrusting against Hot Rod's body again and again as his hands tightened hard enough to dent the younger mech's plating. It did no good, his body no longer his own, but no one could say he didn't  _try_  to stop. "I'm sorry," he was panting, all out of rhythm with his thrusts, "I'm so sorry, Hot Rod," and Hot Rod shook his head in mute, inadequate reassurance.  _It's not your fault,_  he wanted to say, which was true enough (hadn't Optimus tried to warn him? But no, he'd been far too eager to thrust the Matrix back into those strong blue hands, stupid irresponsible glitch that he was) - but he knew very well how little comfort that ever was.

"It doesn't hurt," he said instead, which was a lie, but a kind one. "Why did they do this? Why  _this_  - of all things?" he asked, and a hysterical laugh bubbled up in his voice as he spoke. "Isn't destroying us all enough?" He hoped Optimus would understand what 'they' meant - if he had to say the name of their race's former masters,  _now,_  with Optimus on him and  _in_  him and his own energy surging eagerly none of it by their choice, he'd break into a million pieces.

But Optimus understood. Of course he would. "I don't think - they planned on this," he admitted, the effort of analysis taking his focus away from what his body was doing. "Data corruption - damaged - cortex - no control - unpredictable results-"

"They're not in control either," Hot Rod laughed, and Optimus howled in two despairing octaves at once.

"I don't want to do this!" he cried to the walls of their ship. "I don't want to hurt you!"

"You're not, you're not-!" The lie was no longer sufficient. Hot Rod gasped as Optimus's hands crumpled his plating, bucked as the pain signals briefly overwhelmed him. He only realized he'd cried out when he heard Optimus sob again, a wrenching, unbearable sound.

"Primus, let it end," Optimus begged.

Hot Rod worked a hand free and gripped Optimus's hand, over the crumpled ridges of his own plating. Optimus's head tipped forward to gently rest on the back of Hot Rod's. "Roddy," he whispered, using the familiar, friendly nickname as he never had in life.

For a moment, Hot Rod could pretend that this was all their own choice, that his idol had come to him willingly and that he had surrendered joyfully, that he'd never taken the Matrix and Optimus had never died. "Optimus," he cried, and drowned himself in the fantasy as he overloaded.

He was just regaining his senses when Optimus's climax flooded his body. He screamed, louder than he had when Optimus had hurt him - it was  _cold_ , unspeakably cold, snapping him rigid with the pain of it. As the echoes of Optimus's strangled howl of denial shook his body, Hot Rod felt his tanks rebel. That cold, more than anything else, convinced him of the horrible crime he'd just committed: shared his body with a dead mech. Optimus was dead, and Optimus had 'faced him, and he'd let him and he'd  _liked_  it.

"I'm sorry," Hot Rod whispered, shaking. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Optimus..."

 _If I hadn't given you the Matrix... if I hadn't been so weak... if I hadn't caused your death in the first place...!_

He wept. Optimus lowered him gently to the floor, stroked his helm - Hot Rod flinched from the contact, even that small touch tainted by what the Quintessons had done to his leader - and, just as he had at the moment of his death, lifted the Matrix from his own chest and let it fall.

"Monsters," he murmured, as Hot Rod reached for the artifact.

"Yeah," Hot Rod rasped. "Both of us."

"No." Optimus reached down again, forced Hot Rod's chin up to face him -  _Primus, his optics are so bright, so alive-!_  "I'm in control of myself again," Optimus told him. "But I don't know for how long. I have to act quickly. Take the escape pod. I will destroy this ship, and their ambush with it."

Hot Rod clutched at his hands. "No! I want to go with you!"

 _"It's an order."_  Optimus drew him to his feet, pulled his dented chestplates open and pressed the Matrix into its rightful place with his own hands. "The Autobots are waiting for you. Go -  _Rodimus Prime."_

For another long moment, Rodimus hesitated, considered disobeying - but in the end he fled to the escape pod and returned to his Autobots. From the deck of his flagship he watched the second death of Optimus Prime, but the flames of his pyre could not warm the terrible coldness in his body.


End file.
